


New York, Texas

by traveller



Series: New York, Texas [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, M/M, Near Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:36:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1807267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traveller/pseuds/traveller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>New York, Texas. Population 20. The location was probably somebody’s idea of a joke. It’s little more than a zip code. It’s perfect.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	New York, Texas

**Author's Note:**

> [originally posted on tumblr.](http://ceeturnalia.tumblr.com/post/83783043047)

New York, Texas. Population 20. The location was probably somebody’s idea of a joke. It’s little more than a zip code. It’s perfect. 

Working with his hands settles his mind. They plant a half acre with vegetables, and Steve just smiles when Bucky absently refers to it as a victory garden. They get a couple of horses and some chickens for eggs, and a couple of dogs, mutts from the county humane society. The one with shaggy ginger hair that droops off its muzzle is called Dum Dum. The mouthy border collie mix is Jim. 

Steve gave him the hat and he laughed, but he likes it, it is also grounding in a way. It makes him feel like this is more than just a charade, more than just dressed-up witness protection, like they came here to stay because they meant to. He wears it to the feed store, to the supermarket in Athens, to the post office to pay the light bill, and can almost feel like he blends in with the other men.

Some days he’ll just get stuck, though. Some days he has to stop and will his mind to rest. He stands in the sun, letting it feel warm on his face, on his shirt. He smells hay and sawdust and horse shit. He hears the buzzing of insects in the fields, the distant rumble of an engine on the road, the growls and whuffs of Dum Dum and Jim play-fighting in the driveway. He counts his breaths, in and out, one-one, two-two, three-three. 

Steve approaches him slowly, makes sure that his boots crunch on the gravel and his shoulders cheat into Bucky’s line of vision. It was a lesson hard-learned for them both. 

"You okay?" Steve asks, his hand halfway between them, offering but not insisting. 

Bucky takes the hand and pulls Steve close, pulls him into his arms and hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder. “Getting there,” he answers. “‘M getting there.”


End file.
